


you're no bold villain

by psychedelia



Series: Good Guy Stryfe AU [2]
Category: Cable (Comics), Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Birthday, Gen, Good Guy Stryfe AU, Isaac Summers AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 07:36:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20131726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychedelia/pseuds/psychedelia
Summary: It's Isaac Summer's-- the young Stryfe pulled from Apocalypse's future and given to Scott Summers and Jean Grey by Nathan Summers to raise-- ninth birthday. And he has one request for his older future-clone: Bring your boyfriend Wade Wilson or I Riot.





	you're no bold villain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SenkoWakimarin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/gifts), [kokopellifacetattoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokopellifacetattoo/gifts).

> This was a lovely, lovely commission from Neoma (ifridiot on tumblr); "Well, if it interests you, my thought was Good Boy Byfe AU, Stryfe/Isaac telling Cable he expects Uncle Wade to be at his birthday and Nate trying to wiggle out of it but Cant because Isaac wont budge." 
> 
> Hope this satisfies that, because I sure had a blast writing this. This AU tickles me pink and I want to hopefully write more for it in the future. 
> 
> The AU on its own is essentially an examination of how the X-Men universe would change if Nathan Summers got sick and tired of Stryfe's incarnations and just stole a six year old from Apocalypse and gave him to Scott Summers and Jean Grey in 1983, when they're 20, and asked them to raise him. They named him Isaac Summers.

Nathan has mostly, by this point, gotten over the gut reaction of  _ painfeardisgusthorror _ that blooms in his brain whenever he sees this… strange little experiment of his. He expected this experiment to last maybe a year,  _ max _ , and yet here they are, three years in, and it’s  _ his _ reactions that seem monstrous, rather than  _ Stryfe’s _ .

He’s  _ mostly _ gotten over it, but there’s still a knot in his stomach when the child-- almost nine now-- is suddenly behind him, quiet and light on his feet even after three years of care under Scott Summers and Jean Grey. 

The arrangement is thus-- Scott Summers and Jean Grey raise the husk of a child Nathan managed to steal from Apocalypse’s clutches, and they all pray and hope that the kid doesn’t turn out to be as monstrous as his future self. Nathan visits once a year, checks in on the arrangement, and goes on his merry way and doesn’t raise the child himself for fear of waking up in a blind panic and slaughtering  _ Stryfe _ where he stands.

“You’re staying in this time period a lot more often,” the child starts, and Nathan has to keep reminding himself that his name is  _ Isaac  _ now, a name he’s not sure if Scott knows just the significance of, the symbology involved, the blood red dripping strings of fate being strung wet and knotted tight. “And I think it’s because of Uncle Wade.” 

Nathan would almost laugh at the kid’s self-serious nature, his gaze steady and knowledgeable years beyond his physical body, the cool clouded white eye just a reminder, yet another reminder, just a goddamn reminder of who he is. But it’s hardly funny, and as Wade oh-so-uncharacteristically- seriously asked him several times, quietly, in secluded moments away from prying ears, it’s just another sign of where he was before Nathan could obtain him.

He’s been here all of ten minutes, taking time to compose himself in the entryway awning of the mansion, and already Isaac has managed to find him. It’d be uncanny if it were anyone with a different set of abilities; Isaac still manages to make it uncanny and eerie like a horror movie’s heavy handed metaphor for child horrors, abilities aside.

“I’m here for your birthday,” Nathan replies, and has to stop himself from reaching outwards, poking around, gauging the kid’s emotional state. He’s learned the hard way that even so young, Isaac has some very  _ interesting _ self defenses against anything even approaching the non-physical realm of communication. 

“Yes. Like every year. But that’s not what I was saying.” His hair’s grown out since the last time Nathan’s seen him, six months prior by his estimation, and a strand of the white and brown intermingle and fall into his face almost clumsily, an adjective that Nathan never thought possible for Stryfe the chaos-bringer. 

“Then what  _ are _ you saying? And where’s your father?” He tries to usher Isaac inside, and what he wouldn’t give for Scott to be sitting in the foyer, ready to relieve Nathan of the duty of speaking to his kid. 

It’s not even that he doesn’t like the child-- he does, in the allotted times he gives himself to be around him. It’s just too much to deal with, especially when Scott doesn’t know the full  _ extent _ of the child he’s raising’s future. 

Jean, now Jean he knows understands. Read it from him the moment he dropped Isaac off, the memories and images pumping themselves through Nathan’s head despite his best efforts under sheer duress. Jean’s smart, and a good mother, but Nathan knows which parent has bonded closer to the kid, and it sure as hell isn’t her.

“Dad’s doing something with Mr. Xavier. It doesn’t matter.” Isaac moves to get in front of him, and he’s a short, skinny thing still, won’t fill out properly ‘till he’s almost sixteen. But until then, it’s no wonder he’s got Scott’s genes-- the kid is slimmer than anything, and he gets right up in Nathan’s face like he’s three feet taller and two hundred pounds heavier. 

Nathan stops, and looks down at him, raising an eyebrow at him very deliberately. Isaac responds well to the realm of theatrics, and when he’s  _ theatrically _ stopping Nathan in his tracks, that’s what he’ll get in return. 

“I want Uncle Wade at my birthday party.” He says it with his chin lifted high, and his gaze is severe enough that his eye begins to glow. As confident and final as his voice is, it’s still quiet, soft, a reluctant return to verbal speaking and… Something else that Nathan can’t quite put his finger on.

“No, you don’t.” 

“I do. You have to tell him to come.” 

“Isaac.” 

Isaac puts a hand to his hip and the look in his eye intensifies to an almost painful degree. “Yes, Uncle Nathan?” 

“It’s not--” Nathan’s jaw shuts, steely. Remove the strange circumstances of Isaac’s arrival and he is, well, still only about to turn nine years old, and he can’t exactly go into the intricacies of how mind-numbingly annoying, exhausting, and confusing it’ll be to have to explain to his future-past father and mother that he’s currently dating and borderline living with the mercenary Deadpool. 

“It’s  _ my _ birthday party and I  _ want _ Uncle Wade there.” And finally, finally, he crosses his arms, staring resolutely at Nathan like he can enter his mind, even though he  _ knows _ Isaac can’t quite accomplish that feat,  _ yet _ . 

Nathan pinches the bridge of his nose. This,  _ this _ is why he didn’t want to raise the whelp. Beyond the circumstances of his childhood, beyond what he would become, underneath it all, Stryfe is still a  _ diva _ . And a diva who knows how to argue, at that. 

“Besides, if anyone gets mad, I can just tell my mother to be mean to them in their heads.” Isaac says, and when Nathan’s expression goes even more steely, he continues, “Not me. I don’t do that. I’m not allowed. But Mother is sometimes, and I think Mr. Xavier, and well, it isn’t quite  _ fair _ , I don’t think, but Dad says I can’t do it, anyways.” 

“But your mother can.” Nathan repeats, and he can’t help the exasperation that leaks into his voice. 

“I guess. I’m not the boss of her.” He says it like he’s told Nathan a secret and finally remembered to zip his mouth  _ shut _ . 

Another day, another visit, and Nathan would let this continue. Poke and prod and figure out if there’s any signs of the Man-To-Be, warning flags to look out for that drip with blood from a psimitar. But not today, because, “Wade isn’t coming to your birthday party.” 

“I’ll find out his phone number and call him myself, then.” The kid doesn’t pout, necessarily, but it’s a near thing. And an improvement; the first year it’s just about all he did when something didn’t go his way. “I’m sure he’ll find it very rude when I tell him that you don’t want him here.” 

Nathan pulls in one breath. Then another. And finally, one more, just for good measure. It’s either blow the child off some more  _ and _ get a dramatically furious Wade, or have Wade make an appearance and have to deal with the X-Men invited make the realization that the last time Nathan took Isaac out for the weekend, it was with Wade fucking Wilson. 

Neither option is exactly “ideal,” but he’s considering just biting the bullet and letting Wade get mad at him all he wants, when Isaac says, quieter, softer, his hands pulled away from his hips and his hair falling in front of his face, almost hiding behind the mess, “He’s just kind to me, and most people don’t like me all that much.” 

The way he talks, the vocabulary and sentence construction, you’d think he were older, almost an adult, but he’s small and hunched over himself, for the first time looking less like a rebellious leader standing firm before the mighty soldier in his way, and looking cowed, tiny, a  _ child _ . Just a child. 

Just a child who Nathan knows Scott worries about, who has up until this point had very little luck in interacting with any of the other kids running around (it didn’t help that he’s  _ young _ , younger than most of the mutants). Just a child who Nathan knows Jean feels red hot rage for, when he’s met with nothing, nothing but suspicion and vitriol and anger from the older X-Men (even if she, herself, Nathan knows, doesn’t fully trust him). 

Nathan will give Wade very little credit. At least verbally. But the one he’d be willing to admit immediately is the fact that Wade is good with children. Past the bad language and foul jokes, he cares deeply and empathetically for the lost children of the world, those who have been preyed upon and warped and transformed into something crueler, meaner, colder, because of the shitty hands they’ve been dealt. 

Stryfe or not, the child in front of him fits the bill, or at least did. No wonder Wade expresses having him over more often. 

The foyer is bathed in pre-sunset warmth, the golden light filtering in through the windows meeting the wispy strands of light coming from Isaac’s eye, and the brightness leaks into the sun’s rays. He looks as though he’s being swallowed by something bigger, something brighter, something made of the same light that he is. 

And Nathan can’t even enjoy the image of humbleness, because Isaac looks miserable and  _ innocent _ . 

“...Fine. Fine. I’ll invite Wade.” 

He almost falters, Isaac’s face lighting up a beat too soon, picking up, most likely, on whatever emotional psychic residue leaked off him as he made his decision. In an instant the smile he beams at Nathan makes him look like the happiest child on earth, but Nathan knows it wasn’t deceit what was his previous expression, just the face of a kid who didn’t expect to get a ‘yes.’ 

“Thank you, Uncle Nathan,” He says. “I’ll make certain to tell dad to make an extra cheesecake so there’s enough for everyone.” 

Nathan squints at him, but nods, and as he walks past him, he pats his shoulder, and for once, Isaac doesn’t squirm away. 

* * *

Anxiety aside, it goes relatively smooth. Sure, Nathan gets a look or two from Scott and Jean, Wade gets zapped by Ororo fairly on for  _ something _ , and Nathan finds out an uncomfortable truth about Logan’s…  _ interests _ in men (turns out it’s skinny, angular weirdos who sure like primary colors), but over all, it’s  _ fine _ . 

Turns out, Scott can cook, and cook well, though he still manages to convince Nathan to man the grill while he finishes baking cheesecake (and when Nathan says something, Isaac gives him a witheringly patronizing look, like stating the obvious fact that Scott can cook is meaningless and pedantic), leaving Jean and Ororo and Bobby to lay out on the lawn and drink sangria Bobby ‘made’ (bought).

(Wade gets sore after a few hours and lays out with them to rest his muscles for a bit, and if Nathan’s not seeing things, he’s certain he sees Jean and Ororo actually laugh at one of his jokes.)

And of course, there’s Isaac. He demands to sit in between Wade and Nathan at the dinner table, and looks pleased as punch when Wade high-fives him and tells him it’s the best idea he’s probably  _ ever  _ heard.

Logan’s daughter, Laura, sits across from them, and she’s a quiet, sullen child, but she’s somehow become Isaac’s only friend here, the two of them lost and hurt and young, so very young. She eats like she’s starving, and she refuses to look at most people, but Nathan still watches her and Isaac chase one another after dinner, and scream laughing when Isaac ineffectually wrestles her to the ground and they tussle with a strength far past that of a nine and ten year old.

And then the cheesecake. A recipe Scott scrounged up from who knows where, because evidently Isaac doesn’t ‘like’ normal cake (a knowledge bomb that caused Wade to fall to the ground in mock agony and Isaac to get so worried he’d fallen that he psychically helped to his feet, levitating him for a good three minutes until Wade finally convinced him that he was  _ ok _ ), but rather the most decadent goddamn dessert that Nathan’s ever had. 

Isaac sits between them for that, too, leaning against Wade’s shoulder on one of the benches and kicking his legs out over Nathan’s lap like a goddamn pampered house cat, as he forks the pie into his mouth. 

“You should come over more often, Uncle Nathan,” He says after a while, slow and thoughtful like it's taken him a while to examine the matter and he made a heavy decision with great weight. “You’re a little mean, but so am I. I’m glad you and Uncle Wade could make it.” 

“I’ve never been mean a day in my life,” Nathan protests, and gives a good convincing eye roll, and has to hold back a chuckle when both Isaac and Wade turn to give each other a  _ look _ , something that says, ‘can you believe this delusional man?’ 

“Sure,” They both say, in tandem, and maybe, just maybe, Nathan thinks he was way too over-worried about bringing Wade around.

It’s complicated, this arrangement, but sometimes it’s worth it, worth it if only to watch the man who Nathan thought was, perhaps, evil incarnate, squeal in childish joy when Wade pokes him in the side and startles him with what Wade calls ‘Stealth Tactical Tickles’ as he gives Nathan a fond, soft look, something that says ‘thank you’ even without any telepathy.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at Sekwoja.


End file.
